Sublime Paradigm

Stereotypes are a funny thing. They’re gross oversimplifications that can be malicious or benign; hurtful or just amusing. They crop up in the strangest of places. And often, there’s a certain grain of truth that’s the reason why the stereotype exists.

Gun Flag Cookies

When I first came to Tokyo I became uniquely conscious of being an American. It just wasn’t really something I thought about on a day-to-day basis back home, any more than a fish thinks about water. But where I am isn’t America anymore. Which means that the only America present in most situations I’m in is the little piece I bring around with me inside myself wherever I go.

I have met lots of people here- not just Japanese, but through work I met many Aussies, Kiwis, and Brits as well. So I got used to small talk conversations… instead of “What city are you from” or “What high school did you go to,” it becomes, “What country are you from?”

And from there, there are the usual questions.

What’s the climate like?
What are the people like there?
Did you own a gun when you lived there?

I thought the last one was pretty funny the first time I heard it. I laughed and said, “No, I never owned a gun. None of my friends did either.”

But the question would keep coming up like clockwork. By the time my Aussie coworker asked it to me, I had begun to wise up.

“Say… you’re not asking me that question because I’m an American, are you?

The Aussie laughed and said, “I was just taking the piss out of ya.”

“So did you ever own a gun back home?”

He just laughed in response.

“So I guess you don’t get asked that very often.”

“No- can’t say I have.”

After that conversation, I realized it was the first time I had ever been stereotyped as an American.

I’m not talking about when someone from another country makes an observation while they’re in the States. That’s different- in that situation all parties are still aware of who the “foreigner” is. No, I’m talking about being the foreigner and running into a stereotype based on the quirks of my own foreign country I came from.

I wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it. I wasn’t upset or angry- if anything, it was just amusing. But still, it felt odd to be confronted with this stereotype that bore no relation to my actual experience of having lived my whole life in the States.

So later that day, when I was out for drinks with a couple of my fellow American buddies here, I thought I’d bring it up so we could have a conversation about it.

“I always knew people had stereotypes of Americans, kind of like they have ‘em for people from every country, but isn’t it weird when you actually live in a foreign country for the first time and experience them for the first time?”

“Yeah. It’s definitely a part of the process of getting used to life overseas. Why, what happened?” one of them replied.

“Well, I since I got here I keep getting asked if I ever owned a gun, and today I realized that it was because I’m from the US.”

“Aaah….” He answered.

“Oh, yeah,” said the other.

A moment of silence passed as they both seemed deep in thought.

“Yeah, I have a couple of guns back home. My favorite one was this gorgeous Arisaka Type-30 which almost certainly saw action in the Russo-Japanese war of 1904-5. It’s basically a Japanese copy of a German Mauser rifle, one of the greatest ever designed.”

“Mmm, I really like my Mossberg 590, a pump-action riot shotgun with a 20 inch barrel.” chimed in the other. “I also had a Smith and Wesson SW9VE- it’s a handgun made from all synthetic materials- and a Maadi MISR. It’s a post-ban AK-47 variant; it only accepts 10-round magazines.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well, I guess that’s not such a weird stereotype at all.”

“Yeah,” he said, laughing. “That’s what makes a stereotype a stereotype- there’s usually some real reason why it became a stereotype in the first place.”

“I guess so,” I said. “I guess so.”